


where all roads lead

by thedevilchicken



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 21:49:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21204617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedevilchicken/pseuds/thedevilchicken
Summary: Whenever Alexios finds himself in Delphi, he makes a point of stopping by Lykaon's house.





	where all roads lead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xCrossbonesx (StarSpangledBucky)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/gifts).

Whenever Alexios finds himself in Delphi, he makes a point of stopping by Lykaon's house. 

It didn't start that way. The first time he went back, he was escorting an hetaera from Lalaia down to Pilgrim's Landing; she got sick along the way and since they were near the Chora of Delphi... it was an obvious place for them to stop. He remembers the look on Lykaon's face when he found him at his door; it had been four years, but it was obvious that he remembered him. But then his attention turned to Alexios' sickly companion and didn't turn back to him for several hours, except to ask him to go into the hills and find some plants he knew were growing wild up there to make medicine for her illness. They weren't the same ingredients Lykaon had had him gather for his grandmother, so he did what he was told. 

He remembers staying the night in the courtyard outside the house, under a trellis covered in climbing plants that he couldn't quite see the stars through. He remembers wondering if he should go knock on Lykaon's door and tell him he was sorry, for turning up on his doorstep after years had passed, and for asking for his help when he owed him nothing. In the end, though, he lay where he was and he tried to sleep; he didn't want to bother him any more than he already had, never mind how much he wanted to. Frankly, how much he wanted that surprised him.

It was two more days before his ailing employer was well enough to travel. Alexios did a few odd jobs for Lykaon's sister, who was still living in the area with her husband and their family, and helped deliver medicine to Lykaon's clinic's nearby patients. And then, on the third night, Lykaon came out to the garden. Alexios sat himself up as Lykaon knelt down. 

"I didn't think you would ever come back here," Lykaon said. "Did you ever find what you were looking for?"

Alexios nodded. "I did," he replied. 

"And you're still a working misthios?"

Alexios smiled, maybe a little wistfully. "I'm too set in my ways to change now," he said. 

"I don't suppose the drachmae hurts." 

"No, the drachmae never hurts." 

"Will you pay me for my work?" 

"Of course. Just tell me how much you need."

Lykaon paused and then he looked at him in the moonlight, poorly lit but close by. He hadn't changed at all, Alexios thought; he looked the same, and he smelled the same, like the remedies he made, surprisingly far from unpleasant. Then he leaned down and pressed his palm to the flat of Alexios' sword. 

"The next time you're in Delphi, teach me to use one of these," Lykaon said. "That's my price. No drachmae required." Then he stood and he walked away away again, back into the house. Alexios watched the door close behind him and he couldn't help but think the price seemed fair, as much as he wasn't sure how to be a teacher. It seemed fair, as much as he wasn't sure he liked the idea of Lykaon in a fight, at risk, though he told himself he had no right to feel that pang of worry; he'd only known him for a handful of days and then steered clear for four whole years, after all. He couldn't even say he'd been busy for every one of them.

He left in the morning, with his employer riding behind him on Phobos' back. Lykaon raised one hand and wished him a good journey, but the wistful look on his face said he didn't believe he'd be returning soon, if ever, and it stung. Alexios took the hetaera to Pilgrim's Landing as agreed, and he collected his fee, and he thought about heading back to the far coast of Boeotia where he'd left the Adrestia; Kassandra was with Barnabas, raiding bandit camps and pirate ships, and they were expecting him to rejoin them. He started out in that direction but changed his mind after half a day's ride, and he went back to the Chora of Delphi. 

"I didn't expect to see you so soon," Lykaon said, when he answered his door not long after dawn. Alexios didn't doubt that. He also didn't doubt he was surprised that he'd seen him at all. 

"I owe you," Alexios replied. "And I always pay my debts." Though he wondered if it really was the debt that called him back.

It turned out Lykaon owned a sword. It wasn't much of one, just something cheap he'd picked up from the local blacksmith, though it looked more like an apprentice's work; Alexios tried it out and while it wasn't good, he decided it should work for a beginner. He had Lykaon swap his long tunic for something much less likely to trip him up and need his own attention as a healer, and they began with the basics. 

He corrected Lykaon's grip with his hand curled around his. He corrected Lykaon's stance with his palms pressed to his hips. He moved with him, behind him, guiding his body with his own to show him how to make the correct motions. He could feel Lykaon's pulse with his fingers wrapped around his wrist. He could hear his breath in the chilly morning air. He could see the flush in his cheeks and maybe he'd never taught before, but he'd learned before, and he knew this wasn't how teaching the sword was meant to be. He knew because with every move he remembered the night before the first time that he'd left Delphi, and how they'd moved together then. In that, Lykaon had known exactly what he was doing. 

It wasn't how teaching was meant to be, so he stopped, and cleared his throat, and said that was enough for their first lesson. Lykaon said he had patients to treat anyway. So Lykaon put away his sword and Alexios put on his armour, and they went about their separate days. 

"Why do you want to learn to fight?" Alexios asked, that evening. He'd bought meat from the market, and Lykaon's apprentice made a stew; Lykaon said it was good training, that if he could follow a recipe for food, he could follow a recipe for medicine. 

"Delphi is dangerous," Lykaon replied. "My clinic has been robbed more times than I can count since you left, Alexios."

"Have you thought maybe giving them what they want might be the safest thing to do?"

"My family is not poor, but I can't always afford to replace the medicine they take immediately," Lykaon replied. He smiled wryly. "Or send a misthios into the hills for fresh ingredients." 

"Is it worth risking your life?"

"For my patients'?" He nodded firmly. "Yes." 

Just after dawn the following morning, Alexios gave another lesson; he corrected Lykaon's grip, and his stance, and he took him through a few simple exercises he could practice in his absence. He helped him write them down so he'd remember them, sketching out figures on parchment while Lykaon wrote it down in words. Then, he said a brief goodbye and left again. 

The first time he'd left, Alexios had to admit he hadn't really thought about him after. His mind had strayed sometimes, mostly late at night, while lying awake alone. That time, after he'd left, he thought about him more than he ever had before. Weeks passed, and then a month, and then he finally admitted defeat; he went back to Phokis, to Delphi, but where most people sought the Pythia, Alexios sought out an old Pythia's physician grandson. 

He caught him just after dawn, with his sword in the courtyard, stripped to the waist. He watched him, loitering behind the trellis he remembered sleeping under; he watched his form, which was good but not outstanding, and certainly wasn't going to injure any seasoned bandits. Then he drew his own sword and when Lykaon turned and brought his sword down, their blades clashed together loudly. 

"Alexios!" Lykaon said, with a pleased, surprised smile he didn't try to disguise. 

"You've been practicing." 

"Have you come back for another lesson?"

Honestly, he wasn't sure why he'd come back; he said yes, and they practiced, just simple exchanges, slow and easy and then harder, faster, until Lykaon's breath was quick and his hair was damp with sweat. Then he splashed his face with fresh water and he changed his clothes, he tended to his patients, and Alexios spent time acting like he wasn't watching him. They each had skills the other lacked, and he had to admit healing sometimes appealed more than its opposite.

That night, he slept outside again, underneath the trellis. The next morning, they practiced again, and Lykaon made notes again, and then Alexios left again. But, as he rode away, he had to admit he felt more reluctant. 

He came back again a few weeks later. He came back again a few weeks after that. He told Lykaon he should try to build more strength; he came back and found him lifting stone weights in the garden, and his strength had started to improve. He gave him more routines to practice; he came back to find he'd very nearly mastered them. When he turned up to find the clinic had been robbed again, he helped Lykaon restock with plants from the hills and ingredients from the market, then they picked up their swords again. He was glad he hadn't tried to fight, at least not yet. 

That night, Alexios shivered underneath a blanket in the courtyard in the late autumn chill. The next time he came back, there was a thin layer of snow on the ground when it was time to sleep, and there were flakes floating in the air. He'd definitely slept through worse but Lykaon said, "Would you like to come in?" He might have had a better night's sleep cold, to be honest; sharing a bed that night, he barely slept a wink at all. 

Years have passed. Alexios has returned to the Chora of Delphi every few months, from wherever else he's been in the wide Greek world; this, now, is the longest that he's stayed away. The Cult of Kosmos had many heads and he'd cut those heads off, but more sprung up in their place just like the fucking hydra - not cultists but power-hungry individuals attempting to fill the voids they'd left. Alexios has taken his responsibility seriously and between him and his sister, they've been dealing with the aftermath. It's hard work, but it's his to do.

Now, though, he's back in Phokis. He's back in Delphi, watching Lykaon train. And honestly, he's proud, because he can barely recognise the fighter he was then in the fighter he is now. He's heard he fought off thieves a couple of weeks ago, injured one and then treated him after, and he doesn't disbelieve that at all. Lykaon has always meant too well to really be a killer, and Alexios is glad for that. 

Alexios draws his sword and steps in, and a moment later their blades clash. It's a better sword that Lykaon uses now; Alexios brought him one from Athens at the end of the first year, pretty and well-balanced; he brought him one from Sparta next, sharp and utilitarian like a Spartan soldier might like to use; he brought him one from Pephka after that, forged for the spectacle of the arena. He's kept all three, but he uses the Spartan one. It looks a lot like Alexios', that Nikolaos gave him.

They fight. Lykaon knows Alexios doesn't fight him to his full capacity, because he'd best him with ease and that's not the point of this. Lykaon's seen him fight like that, with the intent to kill that they both know Lykaon himself just doesn't have. He doesn't want to fight off thieves; he just wants them to know he could, so it's not worth trying to rob him. But that doesn't mean he doesn't put a lot of effort in. He's been an excellent student. And Alexios has told himself for years that payment of his debt by teaching him is why he's come. It's not. It never was. 

He knocks the sword out of Lykaon's hand, disarming him with relative ease. He holds the point of his own sword to Lykaon's throat, then he moves, getting closer, putting the edge there instead as he walks him back against the wall by the door into the house that he helped to paint last year. Lykaon's face is flushed from exertion; Alexios tells himself it's just from the exertion, nothing else. Except he knows it's not. At least, he hopes it's not. 

When he tosses his sword to the ground, he kisses him. It's been so long he's not sure if it will be the same as it was back then, and it isn't. Now, he's still tingling with the adrenaline of a fight. Now, Lykaon doesn't simply acquiesce; he pulls him in against him, and he returns that kiss. In a way, it's like they're still fighting, and Alexios has to admit that turns him on. He doesn't doubt Lykaon knows that. 

"What took you so long?" Lykaon asks. When Alexios laughs, he's wondering the same thing himself.

They go inside. It's only just after dawn; there's plenty of time before Lykaon needs to see his patients. There's plenty of time for them to do the things Alexios has been imagining for years. 

Whenever Alexios finds himself in Delphi, he makes a point of stopping by Lykaon's house. Except Phokis is never on his way, and he never just finds himself there. It's never been just a happy accident. He hopes Lykaon knows it's him that draws him in.

Every time he's in Delphi, that's where he goes. One day, he thinks he might just stay there.


End file.
